A Little Encouragement - A Pride and Prejudice variation
by elag
Summary: In Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Charlotte Lucas warns that "… there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement." This light-hearted novella considers what might have happened if Jane Bennet had taken that advice to heart. Follow ODCs on an unexpected path to felicity. Book available on Kobo and Kindle.
1. 27 Nov 1812: the morning after the ball

**Author's note:** This is a published work available on Kobo and Kindle as "A Little Encouragement" by Margaret Gale. I will be posting it here over coming weeks. If you enjoy it, please consider posting a review on Kobo or Amazon.

 _"…_ _there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement."_

\- Charlotte Lucas in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 6

27 November, 1812: the morning after the ball

An exhausted quiet prevailed in the halls of Netherfield Park. The night before, the elegant mansion had rung with gaiety and music as everyone who was anyone in this corner of Hertfordshire attended a private ball hosted by Mr Charles Bingley and his sister, Miss Caroline Bingley. Dancing had continued well into the early hours, and the last of the guests – the boisterous Bennet family from the neighbouring estate, Longbourn – had departed only as the first glow of dawn kissed the eastern horizon.

The inhabitants of the grand house – masters and servants alike – had taken themselves to their beds, with no intention of rising again before it was necessary. For the servants, that meant a scant few hours exhausted slumber before dragging themselves downstairs to light fireplaces, prepare meals, and start the substantial job of cleaning up after the night before. For most of the gentry, it meant a nice long lie in, with no need to stir before mid-afternoon.

Two gentlemen, though, had reason to be up and about before the sun was too high in the sky. The host, Mr Bingley, and his particular friend, Mr Darcy, planned to travel that day to London. The trip itself was not arduous, but this late in the year – it was already the tail end of November – daylight hours were growing short, and it was wise to allow extra time for delays on the road.

Darcy had been very clear that he wished to be away before 11, and had ensured his valet woke him in plenty of time. In part, he was motivated by sensible caution about travelling safely, but it could not be denied that he was also keen to be on the road before his hostess had risen for the day. The opportunity to escape Caroline Bingley's cloying attentions was a great motivator, and the gentleman was up, dressed and breakfasted by 10:30. Eager to set off, he began to wonder where his travelling companion was. Surely Bingley should have appeared at the breakfast table by now?

Bingley was no doubt more tired than Darcy. He had danced every set at the ball the night before, as well as fulfilling his duties as host. He had been in motion for the entire evening, while Darcy had mostly leaned against the wall, observing proceedings. In addition, it was clear to his sisters and friend that he was expending his energies in an attempt to win the heart of the beautiful Miss Bennet, eldest daughter of that very family that had been the last to leave the ball.

Darcy had his doubts about the wisdom of that venture. Bingley clearly thought himself in love, and the object of his affections was a genteel young lady of good, although not notable, birth. That her family had connections to trade could not be an insurmountable objection for one such as Bingley, given his own heritage in that field. Nevertheless, that total want of propriety almost uniformly betrayed by the mother, the three younger sisters and even occasionally by their father must be a true impediment to domestic felicity should Bingley tie himself to the Bennets. More worrying than all of this, however, was that the lady herself appeared indifferent to his friend.

Darcy had spent some time the evening before observing Miss Bennet and Bingley. The serenity of the lady's countenance barely changed throughout the evening. Her smiles were evenly bestowed on every dance partner, with no special smile reserved for Bingley. In all, her air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched. While she received Bingley's attentions with pleasure, it seemed clear that she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment.

Darcy resolved to advise his friend to caution. After the attentions Bingley had been showering on the lady, should he declare his affection, his honour would be irrevocably engaged: he would have no choice but to offer for her. Darcy did not want to see his closest friend trapped in a marriage of unequal affections. Bingley's own nature was so open, affectionate and trusting that he would suffer deeply to discover that his love for Miss Bennet was not reciprocated. To learn that after tying his life to hers would be cruel indeed. Better for Bingley to face that unpleasant truth now, before he had gone too far to retreat. This trip to London was a perfect opportunity to broach the subject with his friend.

The tall figure of Fitzwilliam Darcy could soon be seen pacing the halls of Netherfield Park. He sought Bingley first in his chambers, assuming that he had slept in. Finding the master's suite empty, Darcy checked the stables – perhaps Bingley was taking an unusual interest in the preparation of the carriage? While work was well underway for their departure, with trunks being loaded and carriage horses being led out ready to be put in tackle, Bingley was nowhere to be seen, and the stable master assured Darcy that the master had not been that way today.

Returning to the house, Darcy wracked his brains to work out where his friend might be found. Of a morning, he was a man of habit. He would rise, attend to his toilette, dress, and head directly to break his fast. He was not one to go below stairs, nor would he while away time in a parlour or sitting room unless there was company to entertain. Bingley was as likely to be found in the library as Darcy was to put himself on display at Almacks. After puzzling for some time, and checking the breakfast room again just in case, Darcy finally recalled that, for all his apparent disinclination to take the role seriously, Bingley was in fact master of this estate. He might – just might – be attending to some last minute estate business in the master's study.

Darcy's long stride soon took him to the study door: it was closed, but he could hear Bingley's voice within, and knew his search had ended. It did not occur to him to knock before entering. His friendship with Bingley was of such long standing that they shared a degree of informality typical of brothers, and Darcy was confident Bingley would welcome his contribution to speeding on whatever matters were delaying their departure. He opened the door and walked in, about to hail his friend and offer his assistance. Instead, he stopped a step inside the room, shocked into silence. Bingley was not alone. The other person in the room was not the steward, as Darcy had anticipated, but Miss Jane Bennet. And they had been kissing!

Copyright © 2018 by Margaret Gale


	2. 26 Nov 1812: the Netherfield Ball

**26 November, 1812: the Netherfield Park Ball**

Netherfield glowed, lit from within by hundreds of candles. The ballroom boasted two chandeliers, the light from which reflected back from large mirrors along one wall and from windows along the other. The decorations were tasteful, the music lively, and the assembled merry-makers ready to be pleased. An affair of such quality was a rare treat for the gentry of Meryton and surrounds. The four and twenty families of note did not boast among them anyone of title other than Sir William Lucas, a recently-made knight. There were no earls, viscounts, lords, ladies, baronets, dukes – not even an exiled noble seeking refuge from the French troubles. Despite their proximity to London, their corner of Hertfordshire was a quiet backwater and rarely saw much in the way of the entertainments indulged in by the wealthier sets in Town. They were delighted by the Netherfield ball, and happy to share their delight with their hosts.

The amiable Mr Bingley enthusiastically welcomed his neighbours, accepting their compliments with a self-deprecating modesty that reinforced his reputation as a jovial chap. His sister seemed less eager to enjoy the company. As the hostess of the ball, she performed her duty on the receiving line, but her attention was clearly elsewhere, and she abandoned her post prior to the orchestra striking up the notes for the first dance. She rolled her eyes to see her brother stand up with Miss Bennet – Charles was nothing if not predictable – but returned her attention to her search for Mr Darcy. She anticipated his asking her for at least one set this evening, but despite living at Netherfield, that gentleman had failed in his duty to secure a set prior to the ball. Caroline Bingley was determined to give him every opportunity to remedy that oversight now: what better than the first set as a way for Mr Darcy to make public his affection for her?

Darcy, meanwhile, was carefully evading his hostess. He would dance with her during the evening – he could not in all courtesy avoid it – but it would not be any of the sets which carried special meaning. He would not give her the distinction of opening the ball with him. He would not dance the supper set with her and find himself stuck in her company for the entire meal. And he most certainly would not stand up with her for the last set! Instead, he practiced a skill honed over years of avoiding young ladies in just such circumstances: he kept out of sight, using groups of people, pillars, alcoves and even potted ferns to his advantage, and managed to avoid Miss Bingley until after her first set had been secured by another. He then approached her and requested the second set, which she granted him with as much simpering innuendo as she could muster in the face of her disappointment over being required to dance with some local bumpkin first.

Darcy returned to watching the dancers. Bingley had secured a dance with that pretty Bennet woman. No surprise there. Her witty younger sister was dancing with a surprisingly uncoordinated young man Darcy had seen in her company in Meryton a few days earlier when he had come across the reprobate Wickham. In the circumstances, he had not been able to concentrate on the introductions, but vaguely recalled that this chap was a parson and some relation to the Bennets. Whoever he was, clearly he was no dancer.

Darcy felt some sympathy for Elizabeth Bennet. Dancing was enough of a chore, without being trampled by the missteps and embarrassed by the wrong turns of your partner. Perhaps he ought to request a set from her to ensure she had at least one partner this evening who knew the rudiments of the art.

No sooner had he formed the thought than he grimaced in distaste, chastising himself for such sentimentality. It would not do to raise the girl's expectations, nor to encourage the indelicate speculations of her gauche mother. Let Miss Elizabeth find another who could lead her through the steps without difficulty. Darcy would hold to his earlier resolve, and avoid dancing again this night.

Deliberately turning his gaze away from the admittedly fetching figure of the second Bennet daughter, Darcy looked around the room for others of that family. He had found consideration of their improprieties a sure cure for any soft feelings toward the elder sisters, and he was not to be disappointed.

His eye fell first on one of the youngest two – Miss Lydia, perhaps – who looked too young to be out. She had been dancing with a young blade from the regiment, who looked barely any older than her. They were in high spirits, and had fallen into a childish game of chasing each other about the edges of the dance floor. The lad was in dress uniform, scabbard and all, but it seemed the young Bennet had stolen his sword and was attempting to keep him from recovering it. Were they ten and in the nursery, such antics might have been forgivable. At a ball, among adults, it was disgraceful.

Darcy looked to see whether either of the child's parents was moving to bring their daughter into order, but both were calmly indifferent to the spectacle. It was left to Miss Elizabeth to make her way across the room and speak to her sister. It was apparent from Miss Lydia's face that she was not happy with the reprimand, but her conduct did moderate, at least for now.

The next youngest was dancing, perhaps a little exuberantly, but no differently from most of the girls her age. Darcy's critical eye moved on.

Across the room, in the middle of a gaggle of matrons, he spied Mrs Bennet. That woman never failed to appal him. Sporting far too many feathers, and clearly a little in her cups, she was holding forth to her eager listeners, gesticulating grandly and speaking too loudly. Indeed, even across the room, Darcy could catch snatches. Hope for an attachment between Bingley and Jane was apparently her main theme, one which her neighbours seemed happy to enter into. That Mrs Bennet had no care for her daughter's embarrassment came as no surprise. He had never seen her do otherwise. That others shared her expectations with respect to his friend and her daughter was a more sobering discovery. Bingley should avoid giving rise to expectations in that quarter.

A little further around the room, Mr Bennet was talking quietly with some of the older gentlemen. He was doing nothing to embarrass his family, other than the simple fact that he was doing nothing. What sort of a father would blithely ignore the improprieties of his wife and younger daughter, choosing to while away the evening in quiet conversation while his womenfolk brought disgrace on his name?

Darcy shrugged and rolled his eyes, before noting the middle Bennet daughter sitting quietly at the side of the room, clasping her hands together and looking as though she both wished and feared to be asked to dance. Not much chance of that, though, while her more beautiful sisters were in the room.

Thinking of the more beautiful Bennet sisters, Darcy turned to look for Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth.

Miss Bennet was now dancing with John Lucas, eldest son of a neighbouring estate. She looked serene, much as she had while dancing with Bingley, bestowing her gentle smile on Lucas and clearly enjoying his company. Bingley, meanwhile, was dancing with a young woman who might have passed as nondescript, were it not for a face so crowded with freckles that it was difficult to see past them to discern her features.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet was nowhere to be seen. After scanning the line of dancers several times, Darcy concluded she must have stepped into another room to recover from the trials of dancing with her cousin. Not that he cared where she was. It was mere idle curiosity that led him to circumnavigate the dancers and stroll into the refreshment room. When he wandered from there to the balcony, it was only for want of some fresh air. And when he came across Miss Elizabeth in conversation with the eldest Miss Lucas, it was only to be polite that he asked her for a dance. To remind himself that he had no interest in the young lady, Darcy retreated immediately from her company, to await the dance elsewhere.

Elizabeth was having a better time at the ball than she had anticipated. The first disappointment was to find that the dashing Lieutenant Wickham had been called away at the last minute. The second was to find her opening set commandeered by Mr Collins, possibly the worst dancer she had ever stood up with. Yet her natural good spirits had soon revived, and she had found herself amongst good company, with plenty of dancing and conversation to be had. The decorations were spectacular – Miss Bingley had outdone herself – and Mrs Nicholls' white soup was famous throughout the neighbourhood.

Taking a moment to cool down on the balcony with Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth was delighted to see Jane join them.

"John is a fine dancer, Charlotte. You have taught him well," said Jane, with a slight smile. All three young women had endured many a dance lesson where Charlotte's brother was the only boy available to lead them through their steps. "But I could tell he had rather been dancing with Mary King. He barely took his eyes off her the whole set."

"Just as Mr Bingley barely took his eyes off you, Jane. You had much better have changed partners, then both gentlemen would have been happier. Both ladies, too, if I do not miss my guess."

Jane blushed, but interrupted her friend firmly, "You mustn't say such things, Charlotte. Mr Bingley is a fine gentleman. I do not deny I find him very pleasing, but he has not said anything that would lead me to hope that he sees me as more than a neighbour and a friend. I would not have him embarrassed by speculation at his own ball."

Elizabeth could not hold her peace at her sister's prevarication. "Oh, Jane, if Mr Bingley is not in love with you yet, he very soon will be. He shows all the signs of his affections being engaged."

"You know no such thing, Lizzy. He has behaved as a perfect gentleman, and I have no expectations."

Although this banter had been light-hearted, Charlotte grasped Jane's hands and pulled her further away from where they might be overheard. "My dear friend," quoth she, "if you hold Mr Bingley in fond regard, you must find some way to let him know of your preference. I know you guard your reputation carefully, and would not urge you to do anything improper, but do not conceal your affection from the object of it with the same skill you conceal it from the rest of the world, or you may lose the opportunity of fixing him, and then it will be but poor consolation to believe the rest of the world equally in the dark. There are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. Bingley likes you, undoubtedly, but he may never be brave enough to do more than like you if you do not help him on."

Jane was mildly scandalised by this speech, although she knew Charlotte Lucas of old and was somewhat used to her manner. Before she could respond, Elizabeth jumped in: "But she does help him on as much as her nature will allow. If I can perceive her regard for him, he must be a simpleton, indeed, not to discover it too."

"Remember, Eliza," replied Charlotte, "that he does not know Jane's disposition as you do."

"I would not lose the chance of a future with him due to my own shyness," mused Jane quietly, "but nor would I do anything to embarrass him or expose myself. I cannot flutter my eyelashes, nor simper at him, as I have seen Lydia practice in her mirror. I hope he can discover his own heart without such blandishments."

"You would look a fool if you were to try such games, Jane. It would be completely out of character, and no one who truly cares for you would believe it. I am not suggesting you should act the flirt. Only that you take what opportunities come your way to give Mr Bingley some gentle hints. You have spoken to him more than any of us, so you will know better, but he seems to me a most unassuming fellow, as like as not to think you are too good for him, or to fear offending you if he were to express a preference only to find you did not care for him. Jane, he is not here forever. Sooner or later he will go back to London, and you will be left behind, wondering what might have been. Carpe diem, my friend."

Jane looked thoughtful, but had nothing more to say on the question. Elizabeth turned the conversation to a lighter topic, and the three young ladies were laughing together about a particularly absurd headdress worn by the elder Miss Goulding when they were approached by Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley, claiming their partners for the next set.

Bingley was delighted to dance a second with Miss Bennet, although he knew it would set the gossip running, but he found that lady in a pensive mood, less easy in his company than she had seemed during their first dance. Perhaps she did not want to raise his hopes. Perhaps she was simply too polite to send him on his way. Perhaps there was another gentleman she would rather be dancing with.

Jane was startled by Bingley's demeanour. She had been so hopeful when he asked her for a second set, but the strange conversation with Charlotte had left her quite distracted. By the time she regained her focus and turned to Bingley with a gentle smile, she found his eyes fixed on his feet, and a faint frown replacing his usual sunny countenance. With no idea what might have distressed him, she felt it best to remain silent. It would be unfair to ask the man to concentrate on conversation when clearly there was some matter of greater import weighing on his mind. Jane resolved to provide silent sympathy, and the last steps were danced by each with perfect incomprehension of the mind of the other.

At the end of the set, Bingley led the beautiful Jane Bennet back to her mother with a heavy heart. It was only the thought that she was beyond his reach that made him realise quite how much he wished to secure her heart. He had finally found a woman to love, but it seemed she did not love him. He gallantly kissed her hand in farewell and strode off into the crowd to do his duty as host.

Darcy's dance with Elizabeth had been one of the most frustrating of his life. She danced well, and it was a pleasure to have an excuse to hold her hand and pull her close to him as they stepped through the measures. But it seemed a ballroom placed no restraint on the conversational style of that impertinent miss. She had challenged him at every turn, even invoking Wickham, of all people, as a way to question Darcy's resentful temper. In the end, he had cried off, asking her to wait for more propitious circumstances before attempting to draw his character, and walked away from her for the last time. She might be distractingly pretty and engagingly witty, but she knew exactly how to spark his ire, and had no hesitation in doing so. It was past time he left Hertfordshire behind, and the entire Bennet clan with it.

As the evening drew to a close, cloaks were donned and carriages drew up to the front of the mansion, as the party-goers gradually made their exit. It had been a splendid affair, and Miss Bingley was pressed to accept many congratulations on the decorations, the food, and the musicians. She was buoyed for some time by the satisfaction such compliments must necessarily bring, but even she began to flag as the night wore on, and decided that the last few families could take their leave without her.

Mrs Bennet had managed matters such that the Bennet carriage was the last to arrive, so Jane and Elizabeth were still in the vestibule tying their bonnets in place when Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst came in from farewelling their guests. Caroline was exhausted, but not so tired she could not vent a little spleen before taking her rest: "We must get Charles back to town, Louisa, before he makes a fool of himself and offers for Jane Bennet. He thinks she doesn't like him, which is just as well, because if she gave him the smallest encouragement he would be lost. He and Darcy are going to London tomorrow. We should pack up the house and follow before the day is out. Once there, it will be easy to distract him and keep him from returning. Dear Lord, what a terrible backwater this place is."

Her voice faded as the sisters ascended the grand staircase, but Caroline never ceased her diatribe against the savagery of Hertfordshire until she parted from Louisa at the door to her room. Downstairs, Jane looked at Elizabeth with shock. She had thought Bingley's sisters to be her friends, and it was a shock to hear such cruelty fall from Miss Bingley's lips. But worse than that, it seemed Mr Bingley would leave on the morrow, perhaps never to return. Tears filled her eyes as Elizabeth gently led her out to the waiting carriage. Her family were sufficiently distracted to ignore Jane's silent tears, her mother putting it down to exhaustion.

Copyright © 2018 by Margaret Gale


	3. 27 Nov 1812: the day after (Part 1)

**27 November, 1812: the day after the ball - Part 1  
**

Jane Bennet did not sleep. She lay in silent contemplation for an hour, until she could be sure Elizabeth was fast asleep, then rose and dressed in warm clothes and sturdy boots. Elizabeth was the Bennet sister known for her long rambles throughout the neighbourhood, but with sufficient motivation, Jane could match her abilities on foot. She set out at a steady stride across the paddocks towards Netherfield.

It was not so muddy as on that morning Elizabeth had come to tend her cold, but it was quite muddy enough for Jane's taste: crossing the stiles required care to avoid stepping into puddles, and the long wet grass dragged at her hems. This was not a morning she would normally have chosen for a walk, but Jane was not bent on pleasure. This stroll had a definite purpose.

It was three miles to Netherfield Park, and by the time she got there, the sky was brightening. If any had seen Jane, they might have thought her a wood nymph: her complexion was brightened by the exercise, and by the cold morning air, and she walked into the kitchen garden with a confidence borne of determination.

Entering the kitchen, luck was with her. Mrs Nicholls was already bustling about, directing her staff in preparation for the departure of the master and his party, and planning the clean-up after the ball. Mrs Nicholls had known Jane since she was a babe and knew her to be the very best young lady in Hertfordshire: genteel, considerate, and kind to a fault. If Miss Jane Bennet turned up in her kitchen at cock crow, she must have a very good reason for doing so, and Mrs Nicholls would do what she could to help.

A quiet conversation between the two women was followed by Mrs Nicholls leading Miss Bennet into the master's study, where she was asked to wait, while the housekeeper fetched Mr Bingley. Jane sat anxiously by the unlit fire. She had asked to see the master, without disclosing the topic. She could only hope that he would not balk at such a meeting: it was, to say the least, an unusual request.

Twenty minutes later Charles Bingley entered the room. He had asked to be woken early, as he and Darcy were to travel to London today, but his man had shaken him from sleep a full hour before he expected: apparently, a neighbour had turned up requesting an audience. It must be something urgent for them to call at such an hour, so Bingley rushed to dress and make his way downstairs, wondering which of the neighbouring gentlemen he would find waiting – his man had been in such a rush that he had forgotten to name the visitor.

His shock was complete on finding Miss Jane Bennet alone in his study.

Jane stood and curtseyed. "Good morning sir. I thank you for seeing me at such short notice."

Bingley, recovering his composure somewhat, offered a bow. "Good morning, Miss Bennet. It is a surprise to see you again so soon."

"I can only imagine what you must think of me, sir, to call on you alone and at such an hour. However last night I overheard your sisters mention that you were unlikely to return to Netherfield after tomorrow, so I knew this would be my last chance to tell you something rather important. I hope you will overlook the impropriety."

"Miss Bennet, do not distress yourself. You are always welcome at Netherfield Park. I must tell you, though, that my sisters are quite mistaken – I plan to be back again before the end of the week. But you are here now, so please take a seat and tell me what is so important."

They both sat, rather awkwardly, facing each other across the cold fireplace. Jane took a deep breath and began the words she had rehearsed all night and on the walk from Longbourn. "I realise this is most untoward, but I found I could not let you leave under a misapprehension."

Bingley realised immediately that the lady had come to let him down gently. It was typical of her gentle and generous nature that she would risk her own reputation for the sake of helping him overcome his unrequited affection. She could not know that he had gone beyond admiration and was now lost in the deepest love. Her well-intentioned words could only hurt, but he would do everything he could to protect her from the pain of knowing she had broken his heart. With a shaky breath, he said quietly, "I will listen to whatever you have to tell me, madam."

Jane immediately perceived his uneasiness, but she was determined to say what justice demanded. If she was not to see Mr Bingley again, at least let them part without the regret of never having spoken openly.

"Be not alarmed, sir. I come with no expectations, and do not wish to cause you any sorrow. It is merely that I learned last night that you may be unaware of the high regard I have for you, and I did not want you to leave before I had the opportunity to assure you that my affections are engaged, sir."

Bingley could do nothing but stare. Was she saying what he thought she was? He had spent a restless night grieving over the fact that Jane Bennet did not care for him. Could he have been wrong? But if she _liked_ him, why had she been so solemn during their last dance? Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions again. Was she telling him her affections were engaged _elsewhere_? He was too confused – half agony, half hope – to form a coherent sentence. Instead, he waited, willing her to speak on.

Jane felt immensely foolish. She had bared her heart to the man she loved, and he sat there looking like she had slapped him with a fish. He clearly did not reciprocate her feelings, and she could not help but blush deeply as she was overcome with mortification. "I am sorry, Mr Bingley. I did not wish to embarrass you, yet I see that I have. I do not expect you to return my affections. It is only that I worried I might have been too reserved for you to discover my true feelings, and it would be foolish for us to part if we both felt the same way. But the last thing I would want is to marry a man who does not hold me in affection, so I ask that you do me the kindness of forgetting that this conversation ever happened."

While she spoke, Bingley's mind was most busy, and, with all the wonderful velocity of thought, had been able - and yet without losing a word - to catch and comprehend the exact truth of the whole; to see that his fears had been entirely groundless, a mistake, a delusion - that there was no other man who held Miss Bennet's heart; that he was everything himself; that his agitation, his doubts, his unhappiness at the thought of losing her, had been all received by Jane as discouragement from himself. And not only was there time for these convictions, with all their glow of attendant happiness; there was time also to rejoice that he had waited to hear her out before speaking himself. What foolishness he might have spouted had he spoken in the belief that she was indifferent to him!

But now, speak he must, and speak he did.

"My dear Miss Bennet. I agree that all misunderstandings should be at an end between us. I had indeed feared that you did not care for me as strongly as I care for you, but I may now assure you in the strongest terms that I receive your assurances of affection with the greatest pleasure, and have only to add that I also hold you in the strongest regard."

Fixing her gaze with his earnest look, he sank to one knee before her and raised her right hand to hold against his heart, as he continued: "Miss Bennet … Jane … only the belief that I could not win your love could ever have kept me from your side. Now that I know you are not indifferent, do I ask too much … is it too soon for me to express my most ardent love and admiration? Could you … would you accept my hand in marriage? I can imagine nothing better than passing through life with you at my side, and nothing worse than living out my days without you. Dear Jane, will you be my wife?"

To move so swiftly from despair to happiness was more than Jane knew how to bear, and tears flowed freely down her face as she stood, and pulled Bingley to his feet in front of her, without releasing his hand. "Yes, Mr Bingley, I will marry you," she said, with a tremulous smile. "I love you so very dearly, and could not bear the thought of you going away without knowing it."

"Oh, Jane! You were so serious during our last dance that I thought you did not wish to encourage me. I was heartbroken at the thought of leaving you. I am so very happy that you decided to visit me this morning!"

"If I was solemn, it was only because I was forming the determination to tell you what I felt. It is not at all ladylike, you know, to tell a gentleman that you admire him: that falls to the gentleman's lot. Yet that is hardly fair. How is a man to know that his feelings are reciprocated if young ladies are always as demure and well behaved as we ought to be? And if we are not, then what gentleman is going to respect us? I am no flirt, sir, and could see no way forward but to speak plainly. You can imagine, I am sure, why such a prospect may have given me a distracted air!"

"Oh beloved Jane, never was a better resolution formed. I may have been confused about your feelings yesterday evening, but I am now completely enlightened, and the joy of the morning is worth ten times any confusion and anxiety I have suffered." Bingley was nearly bouncing with delight, and his thoughts turned to the fact that he and Miss Jane Bennet were alone, perhaps for the last time before they married. Holding both her hands in his, he bid, "Jane, dear Jane, may I kiss you?"

Jane blushed again, but gathering her courage, stepped a little closer to her beloved and raised her lips to his.

It was then that the study door swung open and Fitzwilliam Darcy stepped into the room.

After a moment of surprised silence, Darcy and Bingley spoke at once. Darcy began an apology for interrupting, but Bingley stepped forward eagerly to grasp his friend's hand in an enthusiastic handshake, saying "You must be the first to congratulate us, Darcy. Miss Bennet and I are to be married."

Darcy was not slow to understand the scene he had discovered, and any other pronouncement would have been unthinkable in the circumstances. He was relieved to see an equal joy on the lady's face as that gracing Bingley's countenance: he must have misread her level of interest in his friend, and he had never been happier to be wrong. Miss Bennet's family was still far from ideal, but she herself was a gentlewoman of impeccable manners and a happy temperament. Indeed, Bingley's links to trade were much closer than her own, and her father's standing would help to raise him to the status of landed gentleman that he aspired to.

Really, seeing them so happy together, he could not imagine Bingley with anyone else but the lady beside him. They seemed perfectly matched, although they were both of such an easy disposition that they were sure to be constantly taken in by servants and relatives alike! His task as guide and counsel to his younger friend clearly would still be necessary. But he could not begrudge Bingley his happiness.

"Congratulations, my friend. And to you as well, Miss Bennet. I see you have discovered what a fine fellow Charles is, and I am sure you will never have cause to regret your choice." Darcy said all that was proper, and shook Bingley's hand firmly. But he could not help think of the rumours that might run if they were discovered by the staff, or, God forbid, by Bingley's sisters. How could they explain Miss Bennet's presence at Netherfield at such an hour? Clearly, the new couple were too caught up in the moment to consider such things, so it fell to him to remind them.

"Charles, I do not know how Miss Bennet came to be here alone so early, let alone without a chaperone, but it might be best for you to look to protecting her reputation from impertinent speculation. Should we not go immediately to Longbourn? We could deliver you home, Miss Bennet, before the household here becomes aware of your visit, and Bingley, you could take the opportunity to speak to Mr Bennet. The carriage is ready to take us to London, so all we need to do is get you out the front without being noticed, and we can whisk you back to Longbourn in no time."

Jane saw the sense of this advice. Some of the staff were already aware of her presence, but they were people she had known since childhood, and her reputation would suffer no damage at their hands. Bingley's sisters, however, were another matter. After what she had overheard in the early hours of the morning, she had no illusions about their attitude to her and her family. She did not want this day of all days to be ruined by the reaction of her future sisters-in-law to the news. Nor did she trust them not to spread malicious gossip, even about their brother's betrothed.

Bingley, however, was confused. "I had hoped to tell my sisters the good news before we set off, Darcy. I cannot bear to keep such happiness from them. I know they think highly of Jane, and will be delighted for us both."

Darcy rolled his eyes, and was searching for a polite way to discourage his friend from such a disclosure, when to his surprise, Miss Bennet spoke, displaying a firmness of purpose that pleased Darcy and gave him hope that his friend's betrothed would prove to have a stronger mettle than he had heretofore noticed. It seemed, after all, that there were several aspects of Miss Bennet's character that Darcy had quite misread.

"Mr Bingley, I have good reason to think that Caroline and Louisa will both be opposed to the match. Last evening I overheard them speaking – it was quite unintentional, I assure you: they were walking through the foyer and speaking quite loudly, while Lizzy and I were in the vestibule. I could not help but hear what was said. Caroline was determined to follow you to town and convince you not to return. She laughed at the idea that you thought me indifferent, but was determined to use that argument, together with the suspicion that I was a fortune-hunter, to persuade you to keep away. They do not think me good enough for you, for which I do not fault them, but I cannot forgive their plan to use deliberate lies to separate us. It was hearing your sisters' plans that gave me the courage to come here this morning. If we were to be parted, for my own peace of mind, I could not let it be on the basis of lies and uncertainty.

"So I beg of you, do not tell your sisters today. Let this be a test of their affection for you. If they follow you to town, even though you have told them you will be back in three days, you will know they intend to persuade you against me. If they tell you I am indifferent, or that I would marry you without love, then you will know that they value their own happiness above yours. You know the truth about me now, and I would have you know the truth about your sisters. This is another misunderstanding that cannot be allowed to stand between us. If I am right, you will know your sisters' true nature a little better. If I am wrong, then I will be most happy to learn that their affection for you has overcome any temporary misgivings they may have had about me."

That Bingley doubted this view of his sisters' duplicity was apparent. That he was ready to accede to almost anything Miss Bennet might ask of him was equally obvious. "My dear Jane, I hope most earnestly that you have mistaken my sisters, but for your ease of mind, I will do as you ask. I will visit your father this morning, as I could not go to town without knowing that I have secured your hand. Darcy and I will then make haste to London and return as soon as possible. I fear it may be five days instead of three, as I must add a visit to my solicitor while I am there, in order to have the settlement papers drawn up, and then it will be Sunday. I will say nothing to my sisters until my return, although you and your father must agree to secrecy if you do not want my sisters to hear of it from neighbourhood gossip in the meantime! No later than next Monday, you can expect me on your doorstep, ready to cry the news of our engagement for all the world to hear."

Jane could not but be pleased by this speech. It displayed a gratifying concern for her comfort, and a delightful eagerness to return to her side as soon as possible. She smiled happily at her betrothed, saying, "Well, then, let us make haste. Mrs Nicholls knows that I am here – she can be trusted. Perhaps she might help us depart with little notice from others?"

Darcy felt decidedly _de trop_. The two lovers were gazing fondly into each other's eyes with such blatant affection that he could not now recall how he might ever have thought Miss Bennet indifferent to his friend. The intimacy of the moment made him feel as though he were intruding, yet he could not help but notice how the look of open affection on the lady's face made her eyes sparkle, and revealed a similarity to her second sister that he had not previously noted. Oh, what he would give to have Miss Elizabeth look at him like that!

Darcy blushed, and turned away. He could not allow his thoughts to run in that direction. Better to make himself useful, and concentrate on the practicalities of their travel arrangements. He left to find Mrs Nicholls and request that a basket be prepared that they might break their fast in the carriage. He quietly explained that they also sought to assist Miss Bennet to return home without garnering further attention. The housekeeper was a willing co-conspirator, and the three were soon in a carriage heading to Longbourn, before any other members of the household awoke.

 _Copyright © 2018 by Margaret Gale_


	4. 27 Nov 1812: the day after (Part 2)

**27 November, 1812: the day after the ball - Part 2**

Jane handled matters at her home with such quiet grace that Bingley was quickly ensconced in the master's book room with Mr Bennet without anyone being the wiser. Their business was soon happily concluded, and Mr Bennet enjoined to temporary secrecy at his daughter's insistence. He was not displeased at the thought of keeping such news from his wife for a few days, as it promised much opportunity for sport.

Bingley and Jane bade each other a heartfelt, though chaste, farewell, and the gentlemen were making their way quietly to the front door when Miss Elizabeth burst from a side room and ran from the house in a state of obvious distress. She was followed by that strange cousin, Mr Collins, who was spouting some madness about how young ladies were bound to reject a proposal the first time, even though they had no real choice but to accept eventually. Before the surprised gentlemen could make sense of the scene, Mrs Bennet rushed into her husband's book room, crying loudly for him to come and make Elizabeth marry Mr Collins. Luckily, she seemed to be too preoccupied with that mission to either note or draw conclusions from the presence of the two men from Netherfield Park in her hallway.

If Bingley was surprised, Darcy was appalled. Elizabeth Bennet was a gem. To think of her forced into marriage with a fool like Collins was unbearable. She deserved a man of intelligence she could match wits with, a man of education who could help her expand her knowledge of the world, a man who understood her and loved her – not a buffoon who saw nothing but what he wanted to see, and who wanted to see no further than her comely figure. Darcy felt nauseous at the very thought of William Collins laying his hands on Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It was not to be borne. No one should have that right but Darcy himself!

Without further thought, Darcy strode out the front door in pursuit of the distressed young lady. He found her in a pretty little wilderness at the side of the house, sitting on a bench under a tree. She did not notice his approach, consumed as she was by anger and outrage. He cleared his throat to gain her attention, and she jumped in surprise, before rising to her feet and essaying a curtsey. "Mr Darcy, what on earth brings you here?" she cried, too confused to attempt politeness.

"Bingley's carriage," he replied succinctly, if not very helpfully. She was in no mood for flippancy. But he pressed on before she could vent her anger at him. "We called to take our leave, as we are on our way to town. Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, for overhearing what just passed in the house. I simply wanted to extend my sympathy, and to assure you that there is no reason – no reason at all – for you to feel compelled to marry that man."

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow, expressing perfectly her scepticism at his words, and her surprise at him speaking on such a subject at all. "It is nice of you to say so, Mr Darcy, but surely you are aware that my father's estate is entailed to Mr Collins – he is the next master of Longbourn – and we girls have little enough to recommend us to potential suitors. It is as Mr Collins has so kindly pointed out: I may never receive another offer. Even so, I cannot find my way to accepting him. I have ever been determined to marry for love, or never to marry at all. I am reconciled to being an old maid. If I am lucky, Jane will marry and have a brood of children that I can spoil. I will teach them to read Latin, and to play the pianoforte very ill indeed." Although she tried to seem light-hearted, her underlying distress and anger were still apparent, and she finished this little speech with a decided stamp of her foot.

Darcy could not help but be enchanted by the spark which anger gave to her fine eyes. He gazed at her for a moment longer than was proper, before rallying himself to respond to her remarkable declaration. "Your determination to marry for love is commendable, Miss Elizabeth, and one which I share. You may be sure that Mr Collins' offer is not the only one you will receive: there is at least one other gentleman who, to my certain knowledge, is eager to offer his affections."

Elizabeth snorted in disbelief. "I know all the gentlemen of this district, sir, and not one has shown the slightest interest in me. Nor, to be honest, am I interested in any of them. I cannot imagine who you might mean, but I am sure you are mistaken."

Darcy took a deep breath. It was a surprising relief to know that her affections were not otherwise engaged – a possibility he had not considered until she brought it up – but it was clear his own interest had gone entirely unnoticed by the object of his affections. It seemed he had concealed his emotions as effectively as Elizabeth's elder sister had done.

Well, he could learn from Miss Bennet: she found the courage to tell Bingley of her true feelings. How could Darcy do less? Miss Elizabeth might be surprised, but his honour demanded he let her know how he felt. Not only was it right to be honest, his declaration would free her of any need to entertain her cousin's absurd proposal.

Turning his body a little further towards Miss Elizabeth, Darcy reached out and took her hand gently in his. She started, and looked up to meet his gaze, clearly confused by his actions, but his words soon distracted her entirely from the fact that he was holding her hand.

"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Elizabeth's astonishment was beyond expression. She stared, coloured, doubted, and was silent. This he considered sufficient encouragement; and the avowal of all that he felt for her immediately followed. He spoke well, and detailed the gradual growth of his admiration from his first sight of her at the Meryton assembly, their encounter at the Lucas dinner party, and their intimacy at Netherfield Park while she cared for her ill sister. He touched briefly on the disparity in their stations, but only to assure her that he was determined to weather any disapproval they might encounter from his more arrogant relatives, for the advantages of marriage to a woman of wit, intelligence and beauty far outweighed any objections they might raise. He concluded by expressing his hope that the strength of his affections would be rewarded by her acceptance of his hand.

In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike of Mr Darcy, Elizabeth could not be insensible to the compliment of such a man's affection. Both his person and his proposal were vastly preferable to her cousin Collins. But even as he proposed, she could see that he had no doubt of a favourable answer. He _spoke_ of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed a real security. Such a circumstance could only exasperate her, and the colour rose into her cheeks.

"I thank you for the compliment of your proposal, Mr Darcy, but you must realise it comes as a complete surprise to me. I had no idea of your feeling anything towards me but scorn. Indeed, I thought you looked at me only to find fault."

Darcy, who was leaning toward her with his eyes fixed on her face, seemed to catch her words with no less disbelief than surprise. "How can this be? I have tried to conceal my admiration, it is true, but what could have led you to think I _disapproved_ of you in any degree? It is quite the contrary, I assure you."

"Sir, from the very beginning – from the first moment, I may almost say – of my acquaintance with you, your manners have impressed me with your arrogance and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others. Can you deny that you described me in a public place as being _tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt you_? You were heard, sir, and if I were of a less cheerful disposition, I might have learned to hate you for it."

Darcy's complexion became pale with shock, and the disturbance of his mind was visible in every feature. He was struggling for the appearance of composure, and would not open his lips until he believed himself to have attained it. He had no idea that his intemperate words at the Meryton assembly had been overheard. It had been only moments before he had regretted that utterance, not only for that it was ungentlemanly but because once he looked properly at the lady in question, he realised that she was tempting indeed – the most delightfully tempting creature he had seen in some time. And as he got to know her, he discovered a mind even more tempting than the body that housed it. He may have regretted the words at the time, but that was nothing to the remorse that flooded him now, and he could not find the words to express the depth of his repentance.

The pause was to Elizabeth's feelings dreadful. As she watched the evident pain wash across the gentleman's features, she had time to consider his words. He had spoken of ardent love and admiration. Surely if he had thought ill of her at first, his view must have changed considerably for him to make such a declaration. This realisation cast all their subsequent interactions into a new light. He claimed to have enjoyed their contests of wits. While Elizabeth had believed them to be arguing, he had thought it to be a meeting of minds. When she had thought him rudely staring in order to find fault with her, he had been gazing in admiration.

Oh, how foolish she had been. Was she so petty that she had clung to the offence of one ill-tempered comment and as a consequence misunderstood all that had followed? Had her wounded vanity blinded her to the admiration of such a man? _"I, who have prided myself on my discernment!"_ she thought wryly, _"I who have valued myself on my abilities! Who have often disdained the generous candour of my sister, and gratified my vanity in useless or blameable mistrust! How humiliating is this discovery! Yet, how just a humiliation! Had I been in love, I could not have been more wretchedly blind! But vanity, not love, has been my folly. Offended by the neglect of a gentleman on the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have courted prepossession and ignorance, and driven reason away where he was concerned. Til this moment I never knew myself."_

And now, he sat before her having bared his heart, only to have her throw such a petty grievance in his face. It was cruel, and she immediately regretted it when she saw the pain and mortification in his expression.

She ached to see him suffer at her words, and resolved to do what she could to ease his pain. Before she could speak further, though, Darcy recovered his composure sufficiently to speak.

"Miss Elizabeth, I must most humbly beg your forgiveness for speaking such words. I had no idea of them being heard, but even if I thought them for Bingley's ears alone, they should never have been uttered. I was in a foul mood that night, having been presented with a choice between accompanying Charles to an assembly, although I was tired from the road and distracted by thoughts of a misfortune that had befallen my sister, or staying at Netherfield to be fawned upon by Miss Bingley. I chose the lesser of two evils, but let my resentment get the better of my manners. My conduct was unpardonable, and I apologise from the depths of my heart."

"Perhaps you should not have said what you did, Mr Darcy – it was _not_ gentlemanly to speak so of any young lady – but hardly unpardonable, for I _do_ pardon you.

"But you _did_ speak, and I cannot now pretend not to know what you really think of my looks. I was not unduly surprised by your assessment, sir, for I know my sister Jane to be the beauty in the family. But it did hurt to have my shortcomings in appearance summed up so succinctly.

"I _do_ forgive you, sir, since you have tendered your apology so sincerely. However I find it difficult to credit that after such a beginning you _now_ claim to admire me. I certainly had no idea of it."

"Miss Elizabeth, I am a very private person. I have learned to hide my feelings from others to avoid being preyed upon, since there are many who would attach themselves to my name and fortune for less than honourable reasons. I regret that such habits have disguised my feelings for you. I regret my words at the assembly not only because they were unpardonably rude, but because they were _absolutely_ untrue. From the first time I saw you laugh, I have been entranced by you. I have only the strongest admiration for your beauty. You outshine every other lady of my acquaintance."

Elizabeth blushed becomingly, and looked away in embarrassment. This was flattery indeed, but spoken in earnest tones that left no doubt but that the gentleman was besotted. Oh, what to do? She did not love him. The account of him she had heard from Lieutenant Wickham was far more serious than her own imagined offences. How could she align herself with a man who would refuse to honour his own father's will? Yet to be so ardently admired by any gentleman was no small thing. He had been painfully honest with her, and it was only fair to repay honesty with honesty. She would explain what Wickham had accused him of and do what she realised she ought to have done much sooner before accepting Wickham's word so entirely: she would ask Darcy for his side of the story.

"There is one other matter which concerns me, Mr Darcy. I have heard things said of you which would give any woman pause, and I would hear whether there is any truth in these accusations before further considering your proposal. I apologise if these are private matters, but you must understand that they cast a shade upon your reputation, and are something any sensible woman should take into account in judging a gentleman's character.

Darcy could only wonder what it was he had been accused of in this corner of the country where he was entirely unknown but for his past two months' residency. He nodded his assent for Elizabeth to continue, little imagining what a blow she was about to deal him.

 _Copyright © 2018 by Margaret Gale_


	5. 27 Nov 1812: the day after (Part 3)

**27 November, 1812: the day after the ball - Part 3**

"A member of the local militia, a Lieutenant Wickham, told me that he was raised with you at Pemberley, that your father had intended him for the church, but that you resentfully denied him the living mentioned for him in your father's will, reducing him to his present level of comparative poverty. Is this true, sir?"

At Wickham's name, Darcy sprang to his feet and paced angrily, listening to _his_ Elizabeth spout the same tired old tale that had dogged him wherever that reprobate went. How could _she_ of all people fall for that charlatan's lies? She should have more sense, more discernment, than to think so poorly of him, or so well of George Wickham. In his mounting rage, Darcy spat out his words: "Wickham? You would believe anything that man says?"

"I have no reason to disbelieve him, sir. Please explain to me why I should doubt the word of a man of gentlemanly manners who has done nothing to make me question his bona fides. I am not in the habit of thinking ill of everyone I meet. I ask you again, sir, to tell me whether or not Mr Wickham's tale is true."

Darcy was gradually recovering his temper, and considered her words. "I apologise again, Miss Elizabeth. I know not in what manner, under what form of falsehood Wickham has imposed upon you; but his success is not perhaps to be wondered at. Ignorant as you are of everything concerning either of us, detection could not be in your power, and suspicion certainly not in your inclination. The man is a practiced deceiver who fooled my estimable father until his dying day, so it is little wonder he should succeed with others who have no knowledge of his true nature.

"You have asked for the truth, and I can do no less than oblige you. You may find the tale distasteful: it is not something I would speak of by choice, but I owe you honesty in this. It is difficult to speak of, so I beg you to hear me out without interruption." He took a deep breath, and began. He spoke of a childhood friend, of two carefree boys playing about the estate where one's father was master and the other's was steward. He described going to school and university where, away from their fathers' notice, his erstwhile friend developed a preference for dissolute habits and vices that led to an estrangement between the two young men. He talked of gambling debts and ruined women, of his failed attempts to remind young George of honourable behaviour, and of their efforts to conceal these issues from their fathers – on Wickham's part out of self interest and on Darcy's for fear of causing pain to two men he greatly admired. He explained that in his will his father, deluded to the last as to George Wickham's true character, had urged the young man's preferment for the living at Kimpton, which lay within the gift of the Master of Pemberley. He told of a tense discussion with George Wickham in which all interest in the church had been disavowed, following which Wickham had happily resigned his claim on the living in exchange for a sum of three thousand pounds in addition to the thousand pound bequest he had received from the elder Darcy's will. He had claimed, Darcy said, an intention to study for the law.

"Four thousand pounds," Elizabeth gasped. "With so much, why is he enlisted in the militia? Surely he should have an established legal practice by now?"

"Unfortunately George Wickham had no more intention of studying law than he did of taking orders. His object was the money, which he went through with remarkable efficiency. What was not lost at the gambling table was spent on high living and in paying for the services of …" Darcy stumbled to a halt, realising what he had nearly spoken of before a gently bred young lady. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, searching for the thread of his discourse.

"Prostitutes?" asked Elizabeth. She saw Darcy's eyes widen at her use of the term, but had no patience for his sensibilities. "Come now, sir, you do not believe women are ignorant of such things, do you? How are mothers to protect their daughters from men of loose morals if they are prevented from explaining such matters? I am sorry indeed that Mr Wickham is a man of such dissolute habits, and that I gave even a moment's credence to his story. I wonder that he bothers to tell such a tale against you, since by your account you have been more than generous in the face of his failings."

"My dear Miss Elizabeth, I can assure you that the man feels only hatred and resentment toward me. I think he is bitter that our stations in life are so different: that his childhood friend was destined by an accident of birth to a life of privilege that he could not share. My father's kindness gifted him with the opportunity to make something better of his life, and he chose instead to waste every chance. He came back, you know, after the money was all spent, and asked for the living after all. You will not blame me, I hope, for refusing him. A man less suited to being entrusted with shepherding the souls of a parish is hard to imagine – not even your cousin could be worse!"

This brought a snort of humour from Elizabeth, and her smile brought an answering smile to the gentleman. However it faded quickly, as he continued, determined to speak the worst before he lost his courage. "He had somehow convinced himself that I would give him the living. At school he was used to me covering up for his lapses, and perhaps thought I would continue to do so, not realising I had acted for my father's sake, and not from any lingering affection for Wickham himself. His disappointment was great. As he left, he swore he would take his revenge on me. Foolishly, at the time I dismissed his threats, thinking them nothing more than words spoken in the heat of the moment. I came to regret such carelessness.

"This last summer my young sister was taken from school, and I approved a scheme for her to spend some time at the seaside in the company of a paid companion. I did not know that woman was in league with Wickham and that the two had cooked up a plan to convince Georgiana into an elopement. I had never told my sister the truth about Wickham, and she remembered him only as my youthful playmate. Her affectionate heart retained a strong impression of his kindness to her as a child. He charmed her and flattered her, and soon persuaded her to believe herself in love with him. His chief object was her dowry of thirty thousand pounds, but I am sure that revenge against me was also a strong motive. Had he succeeded, his revenge would have been complete indeed. I arrived in Ramsgate unexpectedly a few days before the planned elopement. Georgiana could not bear the thought of distressing me, so happily broke the news that she had found true love with my old playmate. You can imagine how I acted – I sent the cad packing, along with his accomplice, but was unable to prevent him telling Georgiana in the cruellest terms that he held no tender regard for her. My sister was then but fifteen, and her trust was most cruelly betrayed. She has still not recovered her spirits, and it was concern for her which put me in such a poor mood on my arrival in Hertfordshire." Having finished his recitation, he raised his eyes to Elizabeth to see how she had taken this account of a man she had heretofore thought to be a gentleman. She was gazing steadily at him, although her face betrayed a degree of shock and distress.

"I hope, Elizabeth, that you can acquit me of cruelty towards Mr Wickham."

"Mr Darcy, it is my turn to beg forgiveness. I am ashamed to have given even a moment's credit to the words of such a man. He has all the appearance of goodness, but to have entertained such a scheme against an innocent girl – the daughter of his godfather, no less – proves him to be no gentleman. He has no honour and deserves to be publicly disgraced so that he cannot take advantage of other young ladies."

"I would like nothing better than to see him in disgrace, but I am afraid it will not be done at my hand. I cannot forget that my father loved him, and dare not risk exposure of my sister's tale. Her reputation would be ruined if it were known she consented to an elopement, even were it not with the steward's son."

"I understand your caution, Mr Darcy. You must protect your sister at all costs. But you say the man is a spendthrift and a gambler. He has already been in the neighbourhood for nigh on a month. It is likely he has started to run up credit about the town, and perhaps has debts of honour with his fellow officers. If word got out that he could not be relied upon to pay up, that would do a great deal to tarnish his standing in the community, without ever mentioning his other habits or history."

Darcy considered this tempting prospect for a moment before deciding it was too risky. "Even if nothing but debts were mentioned, as soon as Wickham realised the rumours came from me, he would exact his revenge against Georgiana. I cannot take the chance."

"I understand why _you_ cannot, sir, but perhaps _I_ can. An innocent word dropped with a few of the local merchants would be enough to start the ball rolling. A town the size of Meryton cannot afford unpaid debts on any scale, and once the doubt is planted, the shopkeepers will share their concerns quickly enough. There is no reason anyone would connect the rumour with me, since Wickham thinks me his friend, or with you, since everyone knows you dislike my family."

"They do? _You_ do?"

"Mr Darcy, you may be well practiced at masking your admiration for a lady, but you have taken no care to mask your disdain for the neighbourhood at large, and for my family in particular. I am aware that my family are sometimes ridiculous, and that my younger sisters and even my mother frequently lack decorum. _I_ am permitted to say so, for they are my family and I love them dearly, for all their faults. You have restrained yourself commendably from saying anything about my family this morning, but you must know that your contempt for us has been obvious from your first entry into the neighbourhood. When I spoke earlier of your arrogance and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others, it was this open display of disdain which was most in my mind."

Darcy blushed. He was not used to being reprimanded for his conduct – indeed, no one had dared do so since his father passed – and he did not like it one bit. But his sense of justice demanded that he consider her words carefully, rather than rejecting her criticism out of hand, as he was tempted to do. Looking at the situation from her point of view, he could see that his behaviour had been lacking. However absurd her family, it was not his place to judge them, or to allow his judgement to affect his conduct. As a gentleman, he ought to show forbearance and remain polite in the face of the poor behaviour of others, not to display his scorn.

He sat some while in silence, and Elizabeth worried that at last she had gone too far. Their conversation had been such as to invite frankness, but to accuse a gentleman of poor conduct when he had just told her of things that must be painful to recall, let alone to disclose to a relative stranger, was unfair of her.

"I am sorry, sir. I do not mean to cause you pain. We were talking of a way to safeguard the good people of Meryton from Mr Wickham's profligacy. Do you approve my plan, Mr Darcy?"

"Miss Elizabeth, I now realise I have behaved as an insufferable snob since my arrival in the neighbourhood. I am amazed that you will even talk with me, far less conspire for the downfall of my nemesis. I will strive to do better, and hope you will give me a chance to prove myself. But to the question of Wickham, would it not quickly become apparent that I was involved if the rumour were discovered to have originated from you? After all, I have proposed to you, and although you have not yet answered me, I am hopeful that we might soon be engaged."

"Mr Darcy, you presume much. I am determined I will not marry unless it be for love. I do not love you, sir. I have had such differing views of you as to puzzle me exceedingly. I can no longer say I resent you for your insult at the assembly, nor for staring at me so rudely when in company. I am no longer blinded by the lies of Mr Wickham, and have seen a side of your character today that I believe I could come to respect. However this is not enough to build a marriage on. I will not commit myself for life to a mere _chance_ of happiness when I know so little about you. So I cannot accept your proposal," seeing the pain in his eyes, she hurried to add, "but nor do I wish to reject it. If you are serious about seeking my hand, then perhaps you could ask instead for a courtship. That would give us time to know each other better. I am intrigued by the gentleman you have shown me today, and perhaps that _will_ grow into love. I am certainly ready to give you that chance if you can bear with the delay in learning my answer to your proposal."

"Miss Elizabeth, I would be honoured to be able to court you. I see I have some work to do to make myself worthy of a woman such as yourself, and am grateful that you will grant me some time to make the attempt."

"Well then, there are some practical implications, sir. You have met my mother. You must realise that if she were to get wind of a courtship, her mind would jump with rapidity to wedlock, and our pending nuptials would be announced to the neighbourhood before the day was out. I must insist that we tell no one but my father and Jane. If Mr Bingley continues his attentions towards Jane, we could spend time together under the guise of being their chaperones. The militia is to leave for Brighton at the end of January, and there is no reason Wickham would ever have any news of a connection between us once he has left the neighbourhood. This way we may court in peace, while I quietly work to ruin the reputation of an unscrupulous cad, protecting my friends and neighbours from his machinations and going some small way to restoring your reputation in the village, as Wickham's slanders against you will no longer be trusted."

"I must say, my dear Elizabeth, that you have thought it all out. I most heartily accept your terms. As it happens, we will have ample opportunity to chaperone Bingley and your sister, as Bingley is even now meeting with your father to ask him a very particular question." He was delighted to see the look of joy that suffused Elizabeth's visage at this news. "But what of Collins? Your mother will not take kindly to your continuing to refuse his offer."

"My father will support me, especially once he knows of your offer of courtship. I can bear with my mother's disappointment, and hopefully Mr Collins will return home to Hunsford at the end of the week."

"Hunsford?" Mr Darcy's surprise was evident.

"Yes, that is the name of his parish. He has the patronage of a Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings in Kent, and spends no small amount of time extolling the great lady's virtues, not to mention her chimney piece!"

"Good grief! Lady Catherine is my aunt! She is a harridan of the worst sort, who would delight in such a sycophantic fool. I must warn you that Lady Catherine harbours a firm delusion that I will marry my cousin, her daughter Anne. I will not – neither Anne nor myself have the slightest inclination toward each other, and the prospect of Lady Catherine being my mother-in-law is too horrible to contemplate. Nevertheless, no matter how many times I disabuse her of the idea, she is relentless in her determination to see me wed her daughter and so unite two branches of the family. She does not hesitate in speaking of it to whoever will listen. Whatever this Mr Collins may say of any supposed engagement with my cousin, please know it to be a complete fabrication. There is only one lady to whom I have ever offered marriage, as there is only one who has ever won my heart." He looked meaningfully at that lady as he spoke, then raised her hand to gently, almost reverently, kiss it.

"Mr Darcy," Elizabeth replied, somewhat breathlessly, "Thank you for the warning. Mr Collins has not yet mentioned anything of the sort, but he was very excited to discover your identity at the ball last night, and now I understand why. I am sure he will want to make himself known to you before he leaves the vicinity. If he should mention anything of your Aunt's expectations, I will know to treat it with the same solemnity I receive the rest of his pronouncements!"

Darcy was delighted to see Elizabeth recover her equanimity and good humour. He had entered the garden with no thought but to comfort her in her obvious distress, but once there had found words of admiration and proposal spilling from his lips. The lady had responded with sense and consideration, had given him the opportunity to clear up points of misunderstanding and misinformation. And most importantly, she had agreed to a courtship. She had warned him she would not wed without love, so his path was clear. Although it had never before occurred to him that he might need to _earn_ a lady's hand, he was more than ready to do so. What task could be more rewarding than seeking Miss Elizabeth Bennet's love?

"Before I go to your father, I have one request. When we are in private, might you perhaps call me something less formal that Mr Darcy?"

"Perhaps, _Mr Darcy_ ," she said, with one eyebrow raised in challenge, "but I do not know your Christian name. What would you have me call you?"

"My Christian name is Fitzwilliam, but that is worse than Mr Darcy. My friends simply call me Darcy. My parents and my sister call me William. Perhaps you might choose either of those?"

"I will consider it, sir, and will let you know my decision in due course. In the meantime, I would not object to you calling me Elizabeth or Lizzy when in private, although if you call me _Eliza_ in imitation of Miss Bingley, I will have to call off the courtship immediately. Nor will I tolerate Bitsy or Betty. You have been warned, sir, so tread carefully."

Darcy laughed out loud – a sight which amazed Elizabeth – and together they made their way back toward the house. They parted stealthily near the stables to avoid giving rise to speculation. Elizabeth was unwilling to re-enter the house, where her mother and Mr Collins would be waiting, and instead went to talk to the stable hands while Darcy made his way back to the master's book room.

Mr Bennet was surprised to receive yet another young man expressing interest in one of his daughters.

He had been delighted to consent to Bingley's request for his blessing, and irritated that Collins had only thought to consult him _after_ gaining his wife's approval and Lizzy's clear rejection. He had taken no small pleasure in informing the fool that he would not overrule Lizzy's rejection. Collins had stormed out of the house feeling most put upon, which Mr Bennet felt was only fair recompense. He had felt most put upon by that imbecile for the entire duration of his visit.

But to have the proud Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy ask for the honour of courting his favourite daughter promised greater entertainment than either of the other suitors. "You do know, sir, that she despises you?" he asked. To his surprise, Darcy merely smiled at this declaration, and replied, "Perhaps she has not always liked me as well as she does now, Mr Bennet, but I assure you that your daughter has consented to a courtship with the hope that by coming to know me better, she may come to return the love and admiration I hold for her. I wish for nothing more than the chance to win her love, sir, but if she eventually decides against me, I will respect her decision."

"Well, it seems you realise the magnitude of the task before you, sir. If my Lizzy agrees, then I will not be the one to stand in your way. It seems I will have two announcements to make to my family today."

Darcy spoke up quickly. "Mr Bennet, there are particular reasons that Elizabeth prefers we do not announce our courtship until after the militia have decamped for Brighton. I assure you that my honour is bound, and I will behave in all ways properly, but for the sake of another young lady who is entirely innocent, yet whose name could be damaged were Mr Wickham to get wind of any connection between Miss Elizabeth and myself, prudence demands we keep our courtship secret for now."

The earnestness of this appeal touched the older man. He had his suspicions about Wickham – the man seemed too quick to share his private grievances, and his manner around young women was a touch too familiar for Mr Bennet's taste – so he was ready enough to credit that somewhere there was a girl who had suffered at the man's hands. What that might have to do with his Lizzy was a mystery, but Bennet was happy to agree to the requested secrecy.

He now had two pieces of news to withhold from Mrs Bennet, either of which would send her into paroxysms of joy. The one thing he could discuss with her – Lizzy's refusal of Collins, was not something she could delight in. Indeed, he would hear nothing for days except that their most ungrateful child had condemned Mrs Bennet to the hedgerows. He urged Mr Darcy to bring his friend back from town as soon as might be, so that at least Jane's betrothal could be announced.

Darcy heartily agreed, and left through the back door to find his friend waiting with the carriage at the stables. To his great pleasure, Elizabeth was also there, talking animatedly with Bingley, and he was able to let her know his request had been granted before the gentlemen set out for town.

Elizabeth gathered her sisters for a walk into town. It was a convenient way to avoid her mother's resentful reprimands, but also an opportunity to put her scheme into action. She rued her own gullibility in falling for Mr Wickham's superficial charms, and realised that with a little less propriety on her part, she might well have allowed him to put her reputation at risk. Trusting him to be the gentleman he seemed, she might have agreed to walk with him if, for example, meeting him in a country lane. Now knowing him to be a rake, she shivered at the thought of how she might have put herself in danger. She knew from her own sisters' giggling remarks that she was alone in having any suspicion of the man. Every other young lady of Meryton, and every servant and shop assistant for that matter, was unsuspecting of the wolf in their midst. Well, not for long, she hoped.

As Lydia and Kitty lingered near the front of the bakery, hoping to spy an officer in a red coat passing by, Lizzy, Mary and Jane placed Longbourn's order and stopped to chat with Mr Richardson, the proprietor. "I have heard mention that some of the militia have run up credit at many establishments in town," Lizzy remarked. "I hope they have the wherewithal to settle their debts before the regiment leaves for Brighton, for I fear they will not pass this way again for many years."

"Surely you do not think they would behave so dishonourably, Lizzy?" Jane found it difficult to think ill of anyone, and such suspicion was beyond her.

"Indeed I do. Not all of them, of course. But if I had to bet on there being not a single dishonourable man among so many, I would say the chances are slim indeed. All it takes is one who habitually lives beyond his means to leave behind the sort of debts that would injure our town. _I_ would not be waiting until the last minute to call in their accounts." Then she laughed lightly, to dispel the serious tone of her remarks, and added "But I know little of such matters. I am sure the merchants of Meryton are alert to all the dangers of dealing with such itinerant customers."

The young ladies took their leave, moving on to the butchers, where Lizzy made a similar chance remark, this time adding that she had heard Mr Wickham mention how accommodating he had found the local shopkeepers.

Two shops later, and Jane was eyeing her sister with a clear suspicion that she was up to mischief. In all her years, she had never heard Lizzy express so much interest in the financial workings of the town's shops. Lizzy raised an eyebrow in response to Jane's quizzical look, conveying to her sister that she would explain later.

On the way home, while Mary walked ahead with her head in a book and Kitty and Lydia dawdled behind discussing the officers and ribbons they had seen, Elizabeth had her first chance for a confidential discussion with Jane. She immediately pressed for confirmation of what Darcy had told her. Jane was overjoyed to be able to share her news with her dearest sister, but enjoined her to secrecy. Elizabeth was impressed when Jane explained her reasons. She was reassured to discover her sister strong enough to demand an accounting from Bingley's sisters.

She could not help but reciprocating with news of her own secret courtship. Jane was less surprised than Elizabeth might have expected – she had always thought better of Mr Darcy than her sister would allow him to be, and it was no surprise to Jane that any gentleman of sense would fall in love with her dearest sister.

Questions about why it must be secret soon led to an explanation about Wickham, and Lizzy's plan to protect the young women of Meryton from his profligate ways. Jane was shocked to think anyone could be so very bad, and tried to find some way to view it as a misunderstanding – perhaps the gentleman had repented of his past sins and needed but an opportunity to redeem himself? "Poor Wickham!" she cried. "There is such an expression of goodness in his countenance! Such an openness and gentleness in his manner."

Elizabeth would have none of it. "If he repented, why would he still be telling such terrible lies about Mr Darcy? It is no good, Jane. You must accept that there was some great mismanagement in the education of those two young men. One has got all the goodness and the other all the appearance of it."

 _Copyright © 2018 by Margaret Gale_


	6. What happened next: Wickham

**Author's note:** Here are the last three chapters. I hope you have enjoyed the journey. Thanks for the wonderful reviews - I really appreciate the feedback. If you want a copy of this story to keep, it is available on Kobo and Kindle. If you like what you have read enough to buy a copy, please also leave a review on Kobo or Kindle - reader reviews are what puts a book on other readers' radar! Now enjoy the wrap-up of this novella, while I get back to finishing _Encounter at Pemberley_. elag

 **What happened next: Wickham**

Elizabeth's gentle hints proved enough. Shopkeepers began to tot up the debts of the militia, finding that most were modest enough that a gentle reminder for payment was met with friendly compliance. After the next pay day, almost all the debts run up in town were successfully called in. There was only one exception: in shop after shop, owners were surprised to realise the extent of credit they had extended to the smooth-talking Lieutenant Wickham. Each was anxious, but not too worried, until chance conversation with their neighbours revealed that the man owed money all over town. His total debt was too large to be ignored, and a delegation of merchants visited the colonel of the regiment, seeking assurance that Wickham would settle his debts before leaving the village.

Colonel Foster, concerned for the reputation of the militia should one of his officers default on his debts, agreed to press Wickham for payment. Wickham, surprised at such a demand coming weeks before he had anticipated it, pleaded that he was short of ready money at the present. The Colonel was not amused, and declared he would garnish Wickham's wages until the debts to Meryton merchants were fully settled. Wickham was appalled, but not so much as when word leaked from the adjutant that his wages had been garnished. It was no time at all before his erstwhile comrades around the barracks were demanding settlement of his gambling debts, which were substantial indeed. Disgusted at his failure to honour his debts they began to defame him about town. Soon there was not a house in all of Meryton where the disgraced debtor was welcome. His charmed life as the handsomest, most amiable officer in the militia came to an abrupt end. Instead of crossing the road to meet him, young ladies now crossed the road to avoid his company. Instead of a warm welcome to take tea or join a card party, the matrons of the town now extended him a cold shoulder. Instead of a pint or two on credit, the inn demanded hard cash before he could even drown his sorrows.

And through it all, George Wickham had no inkling that his downfall was anything other than chance. He never heard of Elizabeth Bennet's questions that urged the shopkeepers to action. He never suspected that lady had anything but dislike for Darcy, and was confidant that Darcy would not have lowered himself to care for the finances of Meryton shopkeepers. No, he found no one to blame but ill fortune.

He departed for Brighton with empty pockets, distrusted by his fellow officers and under close observation by his commanding officer. It was not long before he deserted and sailed for the American colonies to avoid any risk of discovery. To his eternal regret, he discovered that the veneer of gentlemanly manners was little valued in that land, and he actually had to work for a living.

Copyright © 2018 by Margaret Gale


	7. What happened next: Jane and Bingley

**What happened next: Jane and Bingley**

Bingley and Darcy made good time to town, and settled in to Darcy House. There was no point in opening up Bingley's town house too, since the two gentlemen planned to do no entertaining before returning to Hertfordshire as soon as possible. They planned a busy schedule: each had matters of business to deal with and each wanted to set their lawyers to work on the preparation of settlement papers. In Darcy's case that was perhaps a little premature, but he wished to be ready to move quickly when he finally succeeded in winning his lady's hand. They would return to Hertfordshire on the following Monday.

The next morning, Bingley set out for the docks to meet with a ship's captain and a noted cloth merchant. He had made a tidy profit on a recent venture, and was looking for a new enterprise to invest in. His uncle had recommended Mr Gardiner and Captain Chester as reliable contacts and he was looking forward to meeting them. A careful custodian of his family fortune, he would examine their books closely before taking them on as business partners, but he had a good feeling about them, and left the house with a spring in his step.

Several hours later he returned quite satisfied with everything he had seen. Gardiner had two large warehouses and a plentiful stock of imported cloth, while Chester's vessel was seaworthy and well managed. He had every expectation of a steady line of profit if he should invest with them.

As he stepped down from Darcy's carriage, which he had borrowed for the day, he was surprised to see his own pull up behind it. He had hoped that his beloved Jane was mistaken about his sisters, but his heart now sank to see Louisa and Caroline descend from the carriage. Caroline greeted him with effusive good cheer, explaining that they could not bear another minute in the wilds of Hertfordshire and had decided to follow him to town. Not finding him at home, they had of course come directly to Darcy House in search of him.

Bingley reluctantly ushered them into the house. He dreaded to think what his friend would say, to find them ensconced in his front parlour, but he could hardly leave them on the street. "It hardly seems worth your while to make the trip only for a few days, Caroline. I will not have time to escort you anywhere, as I must return to Netherfield Park on Monday and have much to achieve before then."

"Why, Charles, what is the hurry? You cannot mean to drag us back there so very soon?" Caroline's voice took on a wheedling tone he was very familiar with. If she did not get her way, he knew she would escalate to a full whine, and then to shouting, and perhaps throwing things. Tantrums had worked successfully for her since early childhood, and Bingley had never had the heart to stand up to her long enough to teach her otherwise. Until now.

"I would have thought it was obvious, Caroline," he said pleasantly. "I wish to resume wooing Miss Bennet. If I am lucky, I will secure her hand before some other man snatches the prize."

Caroline slumped heavily into a chair. Things were worse than she had expected, if Charles was already talking of matrimony. She asked him to sit and waved the servants from the room. Interested to see what she would say next, Charles played along, assuming a nervous perch on an adjacent chair. Louisa sat quietly on the lounge. Caroline sighed dramatically, and commenced her campaign.

"You must see how inappropriate she is for you, Charles. Her family are an embarrassment. She has an uncle in trade and another who is a country solicitor. She will do nothing to raise our status."

Bingley protested, "Jane Bennet is a gentleman's daughter. That can only be to our benefit. I can hardly object to a few relatives in trade when that is the origin of _our_ family and _our_ wealth. Jane is an angel."

"Oh, yes, the girl is an angel. She is pretty enough, and well mannered. But what of her family? You could never invite her mother to dine with any of our friends. She need only open her mouth once and all our claims to respectability would be for naught. And what a joy to invite Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty to a dance: they could entertain the whole crowd with their antics! And you could always ask Miss Mary to provide the musical entertainment! Perhaps their cousin Collins could say grace before the supper? You must see how impossible it is, Charles. You cannot do this to us."

"I do not agree. The younger girls are a bit too lively, it is true, but with guidance from you and Miss Bennet, I am sure they will improve in their deportment." He struggled to hide his smile at the look of horror that swept over Caroline's face at the thought of taking any responsibility for moderating the behaviour of Kitty and Lydia Bennet.

Caroline leant forward to grasp her brother's hand, and spoke in her most earnest tones, "Charles, if that were all, I am sure we could survive the shock of finding ourselves related to the Bennet family. I _had_ hoped to spare you this, as I know it will make you sad, but I feel bound to tell you that you have been making a fool of yourself in Hertfordshire. Everyone can see your admiration for Jane Bennet, but anyone with eyes can see that she does not return your affection. She would accept you if you should offer – of course she would. She is a dutiful daughter and will obey her mother in such matters. But she clearly does not _love_ you, brother. As women, Louisa and I can see such things, and for a certainty, we know that Jane Bennet's heart has not been touched. Is that not so, sister?"

Caroline and Charles both turned their faces to their sister, she willing Louisa to say what was necessary, and he hoping that at least one of his sisters would not prove false. Louisa, never a good dissembler, stuck as close to the truth as she could manage while still doing Caroline's bidding: "I saw no evidence of any particular regard, Charles. She smiled as heartily at other gentlemen as she smiled at you. Indeed, during your last dance at the ball, she looked positively uncomfortable."

Caroline jumped in to reclaim the reins of the conversation. She did not want Charles reminded of dancing with Jane Bennet. "Brother, we love you. We do not want to see you trapped into a marriage of unequal affections. If we thought Jane Bennet in love with you, we could bear all the rest. But knowing as we do that she is indifferent, we cannot remain silent."

Charles tried to imitate Darcy's iron control of his features, for he was sorely tempted to laugh in their faces and announce his betrothal to put an end to this farce of a conversation. Instead, he schooled his face to one of solemn concern and answered his sister as he might have if not forewarned what she was about. "I am sorry you think so, Caroline. I had thought there was something more – some spark of regard the lady showed only for me. Perhaps I was mistaken. But that is only another reason to return – to try to win her affection. For I must tell you, sisters, that my affections are irrevocably engaged. I am in love with Miss Bennet, and wish to make her my wife. Why should I not woo her and try to win her heart? Am I so very unlovable?"

Caroline restrained herself from rolling her eyes at her brother's pathetic appeal. "During the ball, you might have noticed Jane dancing with the young Mr Lucas. I spoke with her shortly afterwards, and she told me that she had known him all their lives and she had promised to marry him when they were only six years old. Theirs is an understanding of a peculiar kind – based on childhood affection – but it has withstood the passing of time, and Jane confided in me that she expects his proposal within the month. I am sorry, Charles, but her heart is not free to be won."

It was impossible to take such a tale seriously when he himself had danced with Mr Lucas's fiancée. The young lady had been a pleasant enough dance partner, but when Charles made some joking remark that her attention seemed to be elsewhere, she had confided in him that she and John Lucas were to be wed in March, and she found the engagement period interminable. Later, during supper, Jane had told him of her childhood betrothal to John Lucas, conducted amongst toddlers and small children and inspired by a tale one child's mother had told of her own betrothal years before. She had joked about how glad they both were that such ceremonies were not recognised, since they would never suit one another, and mentioned how very happy she was for her childhood friend that he had found love with Miss King. Caroline's dart had missed its mark.

Try as he might to maintain his composure, this time Charles did laugh. A great belly laugh burst forth, and it was some time before he regained sufficient control of his mirth to resume the conversation.

Caroline Bingley was confused by her brother's reaction. She had expected heartbreak, sorrow, resignation, depression, but not this: not hilarity. Perhaps Charles had been drinking? Perhaps the news had so broken him that he had lost his mind? If so, she would need to take over control of the family investments to secure them all.

But without warning, her brother was sober again. All trace of his good humour had passed, and she was faced with his wrath. "I am ashamed of you, Caroline, and you too, Louisa. When I was told that you planned to lie to me about Jane's affection, I did not want to believe it. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. I could not credit that you would value my happiness so low, nor that you would stoop to outright lying to get your way. Well, it will not work this time, dear sisters. Louisa, you and Hurst may go where you will, provided that it is not in my sight. Make use of your own estate for a change. You will not live on my purse any longer. Caroline, you will return to Hertfordshire with me on Monday, and you will be the consummate hostess to my guests, who will include the family of my fiancée, the Bennets. But be warned: if you find yourself suddenly too ill to travel, I will send you to a sanatorium for those whose minds are troubled. By the time Jane and I are married, you will need to find yourself another establishment. You can live with Hurst and Louisa if they will have you. Or I can release your dowry and you can set up your own town house. It is up to you. Or I suppose you could find yourself a husband. But you can forget Darcy in that regard. He was never interested in you, and once I tell him about this, you will be lucky if he doesn't cut you in public. I know _I_ wish to have nothing more to do with you, and see no reason he should either." With that, he left the room.

Caroline sat in stunned silence for several minutes. All her carefully laid plans had crumbled about her. Her biddable, compliant little brother had suddenly remembered that he was the head of the family after all. With a start, she realised she was sitting in the parlour of Darcy House. The last thing she needed was to be confronted by that proud gentleman before she had worked out what to do, so she roused Louisa and beat a hasty retreat back to the Bingley town house. The servants were surprised to find the family in residence at such short notice, but coped with that resigned and minimal competence they reserved for the most unpleasant of mistresses.

The following Monday saw two carriages plying the road to Meryton. Bingley and Darcy luxuriated in Darcy's conveyance, chatting quietly about the terms of their draft marriage settlements and agreeing that it would be wonderful to see their ladies again. Darcy had by now appraised Bingley of his secret courtship with Elizabeth Bennet. Once Bingley had recovered from the shock, they had delighted in the prospect of soon being brothers, and laughed about how disappointed Miss Bingley would be that this desirable connection would be achieved without her involvement in any way. Darcy had secured Bingley's promise of secrecy, as well as his happy agreement that it was only proper for Darcy and Elizabeth to chaperone Bingley and Jane as often as possible.

The second, less comfortable, carriage contained Caroline Bingley and her maid. Miss Bingley thought her maid the most likely source of the warning Charles had mentioned. Who else could have known of her plan to separate Charles and Jane? As a result, the journey was even more unpleasant for the maid than travelling with her demanding and ill-tempered mistress usually was, as Caroline found every opportunity to indicate her displeasure, and to make the maid uncomfortable.

Bingley's sunny disposition revived in full as the convoy approached the environs of Meryton, and he sat with his head near out the window as they passed through the village, in hopes of seeing his beloved. She was not there, of course. She had remained at home, fully expecting Bingley to call and unwilling to miss his visit. He barely stopped at Netherfield Park long enough to change into fresh clothes before rushing the last three miles that separated him from his heart. For him, the time for secrecy was over, and he wanted nothing more than to have Mr Bennet sign the papers which would make the betrothal irrevocable. And, of course, to see his Jane again.

Mrs Bennet's joy at the announcement was everything her husband anticipated. "Oh! My dear, dear Jane," she cried. "I knew how it would be. I always said it must be so. I was sure you could not be so beautiful for nothing! Oh, and he is the handsomest young man that ever was seen!" Her unique combination of delight and absurdity provided all the amusement Mr Bennet could wish for, and much more embarrassment for his elder daughters than either could bear with equanimity. Eventually Jane proposed that she should show Bingley the garden, and Darcy and Elizabeth volunteered to act as chaperones.

Thus was set the pattern for a season of courtship. The acknowledged couple took every opportunity to spend time alone with their sister and friend. The unacknowledged were happy to have the chance to know each other better, and spent more time embroiled in heated debate or lost in childhood reminiscences than they did paying attention to their duties as chaperones. This negligence suited everyone.

Jane took Caroline Bingley aside one afternoon and explained that while she preferred not to see a rift between Charles and his sister, she would not countenance lying or scheming in her house when she became mistress of Netherfield Park. She offered an olive branch to her future sister – that she was willing to forgive the past and work to reconcile Charles and Caroline, but only if Caroline could genuinely apologise to Charles, and promise to conduct herself with absolute propriety in future. Caroline revolted at such condescension from the upstart Jane Bennet, finally deciding that she would rather take control of her own fortune than live under the thumb of her brother and his new wife. She was worth twenty thousand pounds, much of which she used to purchase a modest town house in a respectable quarter, where she established a salon which soon became notorious as the place to hear the latest _on dits_ and to share the most scurrilous rumours.

Jane and Bingley married in the spring. They did not live long at Netherfield Park. Even with their easy temperaments, they found it was possible to be settled too near to family, and to Mrs Bennet in particular. That lady was so proud of her eldest daughter for catching the most eligible bachelor Meryton had seen in many years that she felt it necessary to visit daily, and to advise Jane on the decoration and furnishing of every room. When the lease on Netherfield Park came up for renewal, Bingley gave it up, instead looking for a property to purchase in Derbyshire.

Copyright © 2018 by Margaret Gale


	8. What happened next: Elizabeth and Darcy

**What happened next: Elizabeth and Darcy**

The courtship of Darcy and Elizabeth was as tempestuous as one might expect of two such decided personalities. Elizabeth persisted in testing the gentleman's character at every opportunity. Darcy bore with her inquisitions with relative good humour, but refused to bend his views on literature, politics or estate management simply to oblige his lady. Instead, he relished the chance to engage her in long, complex and sometimes heated debates where his own ideas and hers were thoroughly tested. Bingley and Jane were often surprised, when wandering back towards the house from their own meanderings, to find Darcy and Elizabeth pacing the rose garden in what looked to all the world like acrimonious argument, only to learn that both were enjoying the contest of wits.

Their secret courtship lasted the full month until the departure of the militia for Brighton. Concerned above all else to protect Georgiana Darcy from the least suspicion on Wickham's part that her brother might have any connection to his recent fall from grace, they were both determined to do nothing which would bring their understanding to public notice while that … person … remained in the neighbourhood.

On the morning after the militia decamped, Bingley and Darcy visited Longbourn as usual. Due to a persistent drizzle, there was no opportunity to walk out, and the young couples were confined to the public spaces of the house. After a dull half hour in company with Mrs Bennet and Lydia, Jane had the inspiration of suggesting that she would like to show the gentlemen the still room. She was skilled in the drying of herbs and flowers, and the distillation of scented water for herself and her sisters, and particularly wished to show them the process of distilling lavender water that she was currently engaged in. This scheme was quickly approved by the visitors, and Elizabeth expressed her interest in seeing Jane's work. As the still room was quite small, there was no prospect of anyone else joining them: indeed Mrs Bennet and Lydia were much happier left to their own devices in the parlour.

Bingley was delighted by anything to do with Jane, and took a keen interest in everything she showed him. He could not but think how lucky he was to be marrying a woman who knew these little things about how to manage a house – he could not imagine Caroline or Louisa ever deigning to dirty their hands with such a process, but he thought it the finest thing in the world for the mistress of his future estate to manufacture her own scents and tonics from the bounty of their gardens.

Darcy, who had been in a still room many times before and had little curiosity about the process, was preoccupied with finding some opportunity for a private discussion with Elizabeth about whether they might now make their courtship public. Elizabeth obviously felt equally desirous of a private conference, since Darcy felt a firm tug on his arm leading him out of the still room and back into the quiet corridor that adjoined it.

Elizabeth looked a little flushed as she began: "Mr Darcy, there is something I have wanted to tell you. I apologise for the setting. It really would be better to do this out of doors, but I am a selfish being and cannot wait for the weather to clear, and who knows when we will get another chance to talk, so this will have to do."

Darcy was unsettled by the solemnity of her words, by the anxious way she had fixed her gaze on his cravat rather than his face, and by the fact that she had reverted to calling him Mr Darcy, having called him simply Darcy for some time now. Perhaps she had finally decided against him, and was about to end the courtship and send him on his way. He took a deep breath and braced himself for the worst. "I will hear whatever you have to say, Miss Elizabeth."

At this toneless statement, she looked up sharply, noticing that he was even more anxious than she at this moment. How unfair. She was about to make a declaration that would irrevocably affect her future, and _he_ was more worried than she! In order to break the tension, she gave him a gentle, affectionate shove and said, "Then I bid you pay attention, sir, for I shall not say this twice."

Darcy's eyes widened slightly. He could not read her at all, and waited in anxious confusion for her to continue, which she did with commendable dispatch.

"When we started our courtship I could not then reply to your offer of marriage, as I did know you well enough. I now feel I know you much better. I have also had time to examine my feelings towards you, and I am ready to give you an answer now, sir, if the offer still stands."

"You must know it does," he said feelingly. "I am even more in love with you now than I was then."

"Then I must tell you, sir, that I no longer wonder whether I could grow to love you, because it seems that I already do."

Darcy's relief at this declaration was profound. "Elizabeth!" he cried joyfully, "can this be true?"

Her warm smile assured him it was, as she attempted to explain: "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. I was in the middle before I knew that I _had_ begun. But now I am so far in love that I know there is no way out: I will love Fitzwilliam Darcy for the rest of my life. Therefore, my dear Will, if you will take me to wife, I will be yours, and if you will be mine, I will most definitely take you to husband." Her eyes sparkled as she spoke, and when she called him "Will" in such tones of affection and regard, he nearly melted on the spot.

The happiness which her words produced was such as he had never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Elizabeth was warmed to see how the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him. Darcy's happiness spilled over in explanation of his feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.

They stood talking quietly in the corridor without noticing the passage of time. There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to anything else.

She noted that he had not objected to her shortening of his name, so ventured to call him "Will" again. This time, with a better understanding of her heart, he responded by leaning in for a quick kiss, which was every bit as delightful as she had dreamed it might be. In the afterglow of that first kiss, they gazed silently at each other, each considering whether it was too soon for a second. Luckily for their decorum, they were interrupted by Bingley and Jane at that moment.

Of course they could not keep their happy news from their dearest friends, and congratulations were offered and received in great good humour. Then Darcy repaired to Mr Bennet's book room while the others returned to the parlour. It was only a few minutes later that Mr Bennet and Darcy appeared at the parlour door, and Elizabeth's betrothal was announced.

The effect on Mrs Bennet was most extraordinary; for on first hearing the news, she sat quite still, unable to utter a syllable. Nor was it under many minutes that she could comprehend what she heard; though not in general backward to credit what was for the advantage of her family, or that came in the shape of a lover to any of them. She began at length to recover, to fidget about in her chair, get up, sit down again, wonder, and bless herself. At last, she approached Darcy to heartily welcome him to the family. If she did mention his income and Lizzy's pin money a little too often, and wonder aloud at why he should have preferred Lizzy to Lydia, Darcy was too happy to be much bothered by it. He simply smiled genially – a sight which inspired Mrs Bennet to comment "Such a charming man – so handsome – so tall!" and Lydia to giggle behind her hand – and let the chatter wash over him. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had agreed to marry him, and he could bear with any embarrassment for that.

The gentlemen were invited to stay for dinner, and somehow after the second glass of wine Darcy let slip that he had a special license and had only to discuss the settlement papers with Mr Bennet and then they could marry whenever Lizzy preferred. Before her mother could intervene to propose an exceptionally long engagement, Lizzy grasped Jane's hand across the table and said joyfully, "Oh Jane, shall we have a joint wedding ceremony?" She added for her mother's benefit, "Wouldn't that be the most fashionable thing imaginable? We would be the envy of the whole neighbourhood. I'm sure Hertfordshire has not seen anything like it for years!"

Before the meal was over, the matter was settled, and Elizabeth Bennet forsook her maiden name in a joint ceremony with her favourite sister, not five weeks later.

Who can be in doubt of what followed? She and Darcy lived a long and mostly happy life at Pemberley, visiting London and Meryton from time to time, but both preferring the country life at home. They remained devoted until the end of their days, often astounding observers with their intense arguments about all manner of things. Neither would give ground easily: both relished having their ideas challenged and tested by the person who they most respected in the world.

There was the added bonus that they always settled every argument with a kiss.

\- _THE END_ -

Copyright © 2018 by Margaret Gale

 _ **A Little Encouragement** is available for purchase as an e-book on Kobo and Amazon Kindle. If you enjoyed this little tale, please consider buying a copy. And if you feel so inclined, remember that posting a review on Kobo or Kindle is the simplest thing you can do to help other readers decide whether or not a book is worth reading. _elag


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